Weapon Testing
by xiao32615987
Summary: Every weapon has its flaws...
1. Chapter 1

_Well now, a new fanfic. This is my first attempt at writing for Gunslinger Girl, but I very much like the anime and my head was full of ideas so I thought I'd get some down. A quick note, this is based on the first series of the anime._

_And another note on names. I know that there are different spellings out there, but I'm going to use the versions that I'm most comfotable with (the ones I saw first), so I will be using Hilscher and Jose. I know some people prefer Giuse and the manga readers prefer Giuseppe, and if that's the case simply read your preferred version whenever you see 'Jose' and don't let something so small prejudice your view on my fanfic._

_I didn't add much of a summary because I thought the title said it all really, if you think it would be better with something more specific, just say so._

_Anyway, here it is. _

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_I had hoped to write sooner, but I only got out of the hospital yesterday. The mission we went on last week was a success; we managed to stop the people that Jose told me wanted to attack a school with a bomb. We were joined by Rico and Triela and their supervisors, Jean and Hilscher. Myself and Jose covered the back entrance to the enemy base whilst Triela and Hilscher went in the front and Rico covered us both by sniping from a house across the street._

_We managed to kill all of the terrorists and Triela found the bomb that they planned to use and, though I only killed two people, Jose still said that he was pleased with me. I was hit in the leg by a round from an assault rifle, but it was to protect Jose so I don't mind, even if I do have to spend time in the hospital for it. I don't think I could cope if Jose got hurt… or worse._

_Anyway, he said that he'd reward me for the mission once I got out of the hospital; I heard that Hilscher got Triela another teddy bear, and that she couldn't think of a name for this one._

_It's time to sleep now. Goodnight._

_Henrietta._

[***]

"I object!"

Jean's voice rang around the office; reflected by the walls that, unlike much of the rest of this building, were not covered in framed artworks. Jean stood, leaning across the desk to stare straight into the director's eyes.

The director simply stared back unflinchingly; leaning back calmly in his chair. This unusual show of emotion from Jean had not surprised him given the circumstances; it did involve his brother, after all; but he would not give in to being pressured by someone below him. He had been appointed the chief of Section 2 of the special ops division because he could be cool and calm under pressure, and was capable of making decisions without letting his emotions infringe on his judgement; and it was in situations like this that those skills became most useful.

After a long silence, Jean straightened up; directing his gaze away into one corner.

"I'm sorry." He said, and the director could see that this was true; Jean looked ashamed for his outburst. "But I still think that it's far too dangerous."

"I understand your feelings," The director responded truthfully. He would forgive Jean for shouting in his office; after all, he had reacted the same way when he had heard of the plan. "But the people at the top have made the orders, and we have to follow them."

"Then, I'd like to volunteer-"

"No." The director cut Jean off in mid-sentence, he had anticipated this; and so, it seemed, had those who had given him the order. "It has to be Jose; they were very clear on that."

"They?" Queried Jean, his expression lightening for a moment from his usual stern scowl.

"The brass that are in charge of the Social Welfare Agency; they briefed me yesterday." The director remembered the briefing well, it had taken so long for the plan to sink in that he had had to postpone briefing Jean until today, even though the orders dictated that everything should be carried out as quickly as possible. He didn't like the idea that people were trying to interfere with his section of the agency; but orders were orders and they had to be carried out regardless of how you felt about them. It seemed that Jean felt the same way.

"Sometimes I think it would be easier if they gave us conditioning as well." He said quietly, with a dry, humourless laugh.

"Jean, I'm making you responsible for overseeing this." The director said, causing Jean to look up sharply in his surprise. "This whole thing has to go smoothly. There have already been too many questions over the usefulness of Section 2, and if this goes badly it could put our future at stake. You've got to make sure that that doesn't happen."

"I understand, Sir." Jean's voice had regained its usual formal, official quality. "But I'd like my objection noted officially."

"It will be." The director responded curtly; he had already lodged an official complaint that would probably be ignored and he knew that one more wouldn't make any difference.

[*]

She pressed the butt of the weapon firmly against her right shoulder and looked down the sights. She could instantly tell that everything was right, the sight lined up perfectly; focusing on a bush that was about thirty metres beyond the window and she knew that she could shoot off one of the leaves whilst leaving the rest of the bush intact, if she were so inclined. She cocked the weapon with her left hand, listening to the mechanism moving smoothly mere centimetres from her cheek and click into place before she released the safety catch and gently squeezed the trigger.

It released just at the point she was expecting, sounding with a loud metallic clunk as the firing pin hit an empty chamber. Henrietta smiled at the noise; it was the clean, crisp sound she had been hoping for.

She placed the sub-machine gun back into the violin case; making sure to re-engage the safety first; and began tidying away the cleaning kit. She had spent an hour disassembling and going carefully over each one of the weapon's components, she couldn't remember how long she had had the P-90 but she knew that it had never jammed or misfired on her before and she was determined to keep it that way; her life and, most importantly, her supervisor's life depended on it.

She placed the cleaning kit into the case as well. There was plenty of space, the P-90 was not a large weapon, but neither was she a large girl and she would have trouble wielding anything much bigger than it. The people of the Social Welfare Agency were rarely interested in the feelings of their assassins, unless it affected their combat capability, then they all wanted to know. As such, they had gone to great lengths to acquire the best weapons for each of the girls; to maximise their killing potential.

Henrietta stood up and stretched. The room was a reasonable size, but fairly plain; a bunk bed was in one corner, a pair of chests of drawers and a single closet sat against the wall opposite it and a table occupied the space in between. The room contained none of the clutter you would normally expect from two young girls; in fact, other than the presence of a few textbooks on a shelf and a group of several instrument cases in the corner it would look unoccupied. Though, to Henrietta, who couldn't remember living any other way, it seemed completely normal.

She started as she heard footsteps coming down the corridor, she had thought that all of the other girls were at the training grounds; she had been left behind because Jose, her supervisor, was away. It wasn't unusual for him to go away like that, but he only ever said where he was going when it involved work. Henrietta always worried when he did that; it made her wonder if he went to see his family, perhaps he had a younger sister or a daughter? Such thoughts always made her feel slightly angry, but she didn't know who she was angry at. This time however, she had very little time to dwell on the matter as the room door opened and it was Rico who entered.

"Hello Henrietta." Rico said cheerfully; it seemed to Henrietta as though she was constantly cheerful.

"Hi, Rico." Henrietta's response was timid as she looked at the blonde girl she shared a room with; Rico was covered in sweat, it looked like Jean had put her through some rigorous training. "You've finished early." She added inquisitively.

"Oh, yeah," Rico's response was casual as she walked over to her bed and placed her rifle case upon it, "Angelica had an accident and damaged some of the equipment, she's had to go back to the hospital."

"I hope she's okay." Henrietta's voice was full of real concern; Angelica never accompanied them on missions because she so often had problems with her health and her memory, all of the girls knew that her future at the agency was uncertain.

"Yeah," Rico only paused for a moment to reflect on this as she removed her long sniper rifle from its case and took out her own cleaning kit; afterwards she regained her cheerful attitude, "But Jean was really angry, I've never seen him look like that."

Rico smiled, presumably remembering how Jean had looked earlier, before sitting down at the table to disassemble and clean her rifle; a task that she could manage much quicker that Henrietta due to her weapon's simpler design.

Henrietta was not in the mood for smiling, her thoughts were too wrapped up in her concern for Angelica; she didn't know the girl too well, there was always a certain distance between all the girls here created by the conditioning applied to them, but she still liked her. However, Rico's next words banished all thoughts of Angelica's injury.

"Oh, Henrietta." Rico didn't even look up from what she was doing as she spoke, "I saw Jose's car on my way back here; I think he went to see Jean-san."

[*]

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" Jose asked his brother, his voice full of misgivings.

"The director has ordered it," Jean responded calmly, "We'll have everything organised; you won't need to worry."

"I don't like it, it seems too rushed."

"Sometimes we have to act fast to catch these terrorists."

Henrietta hadn't intended to overhear anything; she had been walking down the corridor when she had heard Jose's voice coming from one of the doors and had become intrigued by what he had said. She hadn't been able to stop herself from listening to their conversation; and with her enhanced hearing it was easy to make out every word they said.

"Very well then," Jose responded, "I don't agree with it but I suppose I don't have to. Can the full briefing wait until tomorrow? I'll have to speak with Henrietta."

"She's not going with you." Jean said blandly, but the words sent what felt like an electric shock through Henrietta.

"What!? But… and what if I should need her help?" Jose responded, sounding just as shocked as Henrietta felt.

"You won't be far away." Jean's response was just as level and business-like as ever, "You can argue all you like, but the order stands; you're going alone."

Henrietta didn't hear the rest of the conversation, she was preoccupied with the jumble of feelings that Jean's words had set into motion inside of her. It was highly unusual for a supervisor to go into a dangerous situation alone; it was precisely for such situations that Section Two's cybernetics programme had been initiated, did Jean think Henrietta was unreliable? She knew that people might think so, especially after she had lost control and ignored Jose's instructions, resulting in her completely eradicating one of the terrorists' cells, but surely that couldn't have been a bad thing could it? And she had been trying so hard since then to make up for it; all she needed was to prove herself and everything would be fine wouldn't it?

"Henrietta?"

She jumped at the sound of Jose's voice; she hadn't even noticed that the two men had finished their conversation and were just now stepping out into the corridor. She looked up at her supervisor's face, which seemed initially surprised, but Jose recovered quickly and the look was replaced with concern.

"Henrietta." He said again, "Is there something wrong?"

It was Henrietta's turn to be puzzled, but it too passed quickly when she realised that tears had in fact been gathering in her eyes. She turned away to wipe her eyes on her sleeve, but she still caught a glance at Jean's disapproving scowl from over Jose's shoulder. It made her angry to think about; she knew that Jean thought she was too sensitive and wasn't of much use. She would show him that she could be useful to Jose; she had to.

After making sure that she had dried her eyes, she turned back to the two men and tried to smile, "It's nothing, I'm fine; really." She witnessed them exchange a disbelieving look, and noticed that Jose's face was still full of concern.

"I take it that you overheard us?" Jean said; his voice in its usual flat, expressionless tone.

"It doesn't matter, really." Henrietta responded. "If staying behind is something that I have to do then I'll do it." It was technically true; her conditioning dictated that she had to follow any orders given to her by the agency, regardless of how she felt about them.

"Go back to your room Henrietta," Jose said in his usual, kind voice; despite the fact that his facial expression did not change. "We'll talk later."

"Okay." Henrietta responded; finding it hard not to feel put down by Jose's seeming lack of interest in what she had to say. Part of her wanted to stay, but she knew that she had to do as he requested and so she turned away and walked slowly down the corridor.

[*]

They waited until they knew that Henrietta was out of range of even her hearing before Jean spoke.

"You're too easy on her." He said sternly, having always disapproved of Jose's emotional attachment to Henrietta. "Remember that she's not a little girl anymore; she's a tool… a weapon."

"I know." Jose responded, without even looking around. "But she's far more complicated than any gun. If a gun goes wrong you can simply strip it down and clean it; but these girls have emotions that need to be tended to as well. And if you go wrong there… it's all over."

"I hope for your sake that you've got it right." Jean said curtly; but it wasn't just Jose whose future rested on that girl, if he'd got it wrong she could bring the whole of Section 2 down with them.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the positive comments, when writing about anime I do always try to stick close to the style of the show (often it simply happens accidentally, in thinking about the show I adopt a writing style to suit). I also try to make sure that I don't make too many assumptions about how much people know about the show (except the general appearance of characters)._

_I'll continue writing this and the next chapter will be up whenever I finish writing it (hopefully soon). I do enjoy writing, but it is so often that things get in the way and I am simply terrible at putting things off._

_Till next time then..._

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_Jose's going to work by himself, without me. He thinks it will be really dangerous but, for some reason Jean doesn't want me to go with him. Why; am I unreliable? Or does he think that I'm not skilled enough? I'm not as good a sniper as Rico, nor am I as good in close combat as Triela but last month I killed fifteen people! Is that not enough?_

_I don't like Jean. I know he's Jose's brother, but I still don't. Rico doesn't seem to mind, but he's so cold towards us. I don't think he likes me either, I think he resents how Jose treats me._

_Jose's waiting for me._

_Henrietta._

[***]

She absentmindedly pushed her hair back, away from her eyes, as she peered into the eyepiece. The gentle wind further toyed with her, sending brown strands floating across her vision; impatiently holding them back, she concentrated her mind on the view that the telescope gifted her. Her eyes were good and with them she could make out the stars that even Jose couldn't, but the telescope allowed her to see so much more and enhanced the beauty of the distant, twinkling objects.

"That is the constellation, Draco." Jose said, standing close beside her, his coat closed against the cold night air. "To many civilisations it is the shape of a dragon; but the ancient Egyptians, who first recorded it, called it Tawaret."

"Tawaret?" She repeated it, still gazing at the formation before her, locked deeply in the bounds of fascination. The constellation was large and breathtaking; one bright star formed the corner of what seemed to be a disfigured square from which trailed a weaving path of stars across the sky. To Henrietta it looked not like a dragon; more like the impact pattern from a weapon fired on full auto for too long, causing the weapon's barrel to rise uncontrollably.

"Yes." Jose responded, "Tawaret was a goddess in Egyptian mythology. She was the ever-vigilant protector, who dealt fiercely with evil spirits."

This time Henrietta looked up from the telescope. Beside her Jose was looking out over the edge of the building's roof, his expression was serious and troubled; it was an expression he had used before, but when he saw her looking it would vanish quickly. She had never liked it.

"I'll be leaving in the morning." He said abruptly, after a long pause. "Jean and the Director want me to go as soon as possible." He kept his gaze fixed out over the low wall which ran around the edge of the roof.

"But, I've already missed so much training and…" She said, faltering on the last words; she didn't know how she wanted to finish the sentence.

"Jean will look after your training whilst I'm gone and I'll leave you some written notes."

"But, I don't…" She restrained herself from expressing her opinion on Jean; she didn't want to hurt him, but at the same time could feel something forcing its way into her mind, struggling to be said and it pained her that he wouldn't even look at her. "But… I have to go with you."

This time Jose did look round, his expression becoming that of mild surprise; but she didn't see it for long. Almost immediately after saying it she had hung her head, staring directly down at her shoes; ashamed. The assassins of Section 2 were not supposed to question their orders; that was why they received their conditioning, so they would be unable to question or disobey. Jose had never increased the level of Henrietta's conditioning, despite incidents in which they had tried to force him to. It was a point that was much debated amongst the adult staff and Henrietta never wanted to give anyone a reason to doubt him.

There was a painful pause which seemed to drag on for an eternity; and all the while she kept her head down. Her eyes looked across the long, deep red coat he had bought for her and stared intently at her shoes, without even seeing them; her hands clenched together shyly as she wondered what to say, and what he was thinking. The silence was nigh unbearable and she almost hoped he would scold her.

"Henrietta." He said; his voice warm and soft, and sounding closer. "We both have our orders, and we don't get a say in whether we do them or not." Now she looked up to see, to her slight surprise, that Jose had crouched slightly to bring himself to her height; his expression was the gentle, caring one that she so adored.

"But, you said it might be dangerous and…" She paused for a moment, looking for words that would best express her feelings, "…I think something bad is going to happen." She didn't like admitting it, but it was true; she'd experienced a strange sense of foreboding the moment she had overheard Jose and Jean's conversation and their raised voices.

"It's only a mission to observe; there shouldn't be any fighting." Jose responded kindly. "And if something does happen you won't be that far away; I'm only going to Rome."

Henrietta nodded meekly. It had cheered her up slightly; it was hard not to be when he was this considerate.

"Anyway," He continued, straightening up. "You'd best train hard whilst I'm away. When I get back, I expect you to be better at sniping than me, got that?" And he smiled.

"Yes sir." She said; smiling back, it was hard not to. That night she really did feel like the luckiest girl at the agency, to have such a caring supervisor; she didn't know what she'd do without him.

She squeezed the trigger; feeling the kick of the weapon's recoil as it released a four round burst into the target. The first round hit the wooden cut-out off-centre and the others trailed in a line above that was too long, caused by the weapon rising as she'd fired. It was a poor shot, even considering that she hadn't been concentrating at the time; for all morning Henrietta's thoughts had lingered on Jose.

He had left very early, before she had woken and well before dawn. She hadn't had a chance to say goodbye or wish him luck, and it haunted her more than it strictly should, as the previous day's foreboding feeling had remained. All through breakfast and the morning's practice on the outdoor fire-range, she had been unable to dispel it; and it even bothered her still, to the extent that she could barely shoot straight.

She raised the P-90 again; lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard a whistle blow nearby; and let the targeting reticule rest on the centre of the concentric rings that were painted over what would have been the chest area, had it been a real person. It didn't occur to her to wonder why she couldn't hear the distinctive loud crack made by Rico's sniper rifle next to her, as she fired the next burst.

The next events went by in a flash; someone cried out in surprise and, barely a second later, a man's voice shouted out Henrietta's name. She came back to her senses suddenly, jumping as though someone had given her an electric shock, and the scene quickly presented itself to her.

Rico was lying flat at the far end of the target range, mere inches from where Henrietta had been aiming. The image struck her like a hammer blow and a blind panic rose through her, only to be forced back again as she quickly realised that there was no blood; Rico could not be hurt.

"Henrietta!" The voice shouted again; and she turned to see that Jean was standing right next to her, his face filled with a rage unlike that which she had ever seen before and one hand raised high, ready to strike.

She braced herself, waiting for the impact that never came. Jean slowly lowered his hand and rearranged his expression into its usual calm, but entirely disapproving look; and yet, though he had managed to remove the anger from his face it remained in his voice.

"You stupid little girl." He growled; anger in every syllable. "Did you not hear the whistle?" She shook her head slowly; perfectly aware that even though she told the truth, it would do her no favours. Jean responded with a single, muttered word, "Gun" and held out his hand.

She hung her head; not wanting Jean to see any tears in her eyes, though she fought hard to stop herself from crying. It was worse than any smack that he could have given her; for at least the physical pain would go quickly, where this would remain. Yet it wasn't just this that brought her to the verge of tears, it was the thought that Jean would inform Jose of her uselessness; and then what? Jose's disappointment, even in his absence, hurt her more that any level of shouting from Jean.

After a moment, she engaged the P-90's safety catch, removed the half-empty magazine and cleared the chamber before obediently handing over her weapon. She didn't want to give it to him, would've refused outright if she could; though it would only give Jean further reason to scold her.

Jean took the weapon and the magazine and said simply, "Morning practice is over for you."

[*]

Jean rested his eyes for a moment, ignoring the renewed gunshots around him as the other girls continued their training. It had only been a few minutes since he had scolded Henrietta for her stupidity; she had left, presumably to walk back to the dorms, though he couldn't really bring himself to care where she went. Rico seemed to have forgotten the incident and was now once more firing upon the wooden targets; the distinctive crack of the Dragunov was almost calming to him. Good, dependable Rico; she never disobeyed him and was the perfect example of what Section Two's cybernetics programme could achieve. Henrietta, on the other hand…

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He hadn't had an easy morning; he had said goodbye to his brother knowing that he had broken their trust and then, as if his worries couldn't have gotten any worse, there had almost been an accident from the girls under his charge. He should've seen it coming; he should've paid more attention to her and noticed that she had been distracted all morning. If this is what happened when Jose was gone for half a day… the doctor was right, Henrietta was far too delicate; and she could- no, she would bring the whole of Section Two down with her if she wasn't handled correctly.

Jose was right; his job was tougher than it looked.

[*]

He had found the place with no problems, despite Jean's warnings. It had surprised him; when he had left, Jean's face was full of anxiousness and fear the likes of which he had never seen before; in fact it had forcibly reminded him of Henrietta. He knew that this mission could be dangerous, that was what Section Two had been created for, but he had never known Jean to seem so genuinely concerned about one; was there something he hadn't been told?

He shook his own head, smiling as he did so. No, Jean wouldn't keep anything like that from him; he wasn't the most compassionate older brother, but he did look out for him. Dismissing these thoughts quickly, he opened the door and stepped across the threshold.

This grotty old house was to be his base for the next… well, for however long it took. It was a simple, small, two-story building which squatted at the end of a row of similar domiciles. The ground floor consisted of a single room which served as kitchen, sitting room and a dining room of sorts; though what there was of the furniture was well-used and threadbare and the kitchen work surfaces were caked in dust and dirt, it had probably been years since anyone had lived in this place.

Jose sighed as he moved further in; being careful to shut the door behind him, the old Yale lock clicking into place, it must've been one of the few things that still worked as it should. He dropped the bag from his shoulder; letting it land with a _flump_ on the thin, faded carpet, kicking up a cloud of dust as it did so; and walked to the large window which looked out into the street.

What he was interested in was not the street, but the house opposite; his target house. It was a grand old house which was isolated from the others around it by an expanse of garden and sturdy iron railings, around which carefully pruned bushes grew tall enough to keep out the prying eyes of the general public. Unfortunately they also meant that he would have to set up his surveillance equipment upstairs, on the terrace attached to the front of the first floor. It would make them more visible, but he had picked up on several tricks to hide such devices and even though it-

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar metallic click from somewhere behind him, the sound of a cocking gun. Jose froze instantly, knowing that there was not a chance of him reaching his own pistol, his trusted FN Five-Seven, before the person behind him fired.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long." Jose said conversationally, trying his best to keep his cool and think of a way out. It surprised him further when the voice that answered was one that he recognised.

"Too long, Jose."


	3. Chapter 3

_Right, chapter three. I seem to be in a good writing mood recently, I sure hope it continues._

_Well, I know that chapter two did take a while, but I hope this one was fast enough. (I have to be fair to my other stories as well). I think the reason I find it so easy to emulate the style of the anime is partly because I like it so much and partly because it's a very deep, thoughtful style which suits the way I write._

_You're right though, I do like little cliffhangers and am a bit of a git when it comes to scattering them about my stories._

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm useless. Totally useless._

_I was so distracted that I almost shot Rico. Jean was really angry and I was sure he was about to hit me, but he didn't. I just can't stop thinking about Jose. I know he goes off by himself sometimes but never on missions, especially dangerous ones. I can't help thinking that something's going to go wrong._

_Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it._

_Henrietta._

[***]

She prodded the food with little enthusiasm, watching as the prongs of the fork sank easily through it, the pie crust putting up little resistance to the steel, and when the resistance increased as she came across something within a slight increase in pressure from her hand simply forced the sharp points through it. Henrietta lifted the fork up, breaking through the crust with ease and stared at the little cube of beef, dripping with gravy that was now impaled upon it. She knew that should she put it in her mouth she would enjoy it. She liked the taste of the tender beef and the thick gravy prepared - with skill she only wished she had – by the chefs who worked in the Agency's cafeteria, unaware of the brutal business that went on all around them. Yet they created such wonderful meals that were fed to murderers – Henrietta and the other cyborg assassins – people whose only talent was to kill.

She wasn't hungry. She let the chunk of food drop back onto the plate and placed down her fork, near the pile of food which had hardly changed in the last half hour. Looking around the room Henrietta saw the many tables which could get quite busy during the main mealtimes, though now there were only a few small groups of men and women chatting animatedly over tea and coffee, else exchanging only a few words as they ate in near silence. They all looked happy, and Henrietta knew why – they were busy. They had work to do and forms to fill and everything else to occupy their time with, they didn't have to sit and wait for much of the day, staring out of the window in the hope that something might happen, their minds weighed down with troubles. At the end of the day they could go home to their families and forget about their work for a while, rest and relax.

Henrietta, on the other hand, never left and the closest thing she had to a family was Jose, and even then only because they had been labelled as such. 'Fratello'. Was it though? Did he really think of her as a little sister? Would he worry about her, show concern if she was sick… would he cry if she died?

She shook the thoughts from her mind. It wasn't something she wanted to think about. If she died… no, _when_ she died she would do so protecting Jose, so that he would live. That was all there was to it. That was all there could be to it, her 'conditioning' ensured that at least.

She pinched herself, allowing the momentary feeling of pain to clear her mind. When you are alone such dark thoughts have a habit of forcing their way in, no matter how much you resist. Henrietta was alone. Not only alone at the table but isolated, cut-off from the other people around her - which was not unusual; people had a hard time even coming to terms with what these girls were, many didn't even want to know – but today she even felt isolated from the other girls, especially after the incident on the firing range. She felt terrible for having almost shot Rico, who was supposed to be her friend, and it only happened because she was thinking about herself.

She stood up. Some part of her mind had made a decision for her. The others should be back very soon; having finished their morning practice on the firing range they would be heading back her for lunch before afternoon training began. She would go now to find Rico and – even though she was sure that Rico would've already forgiven her – she would apologise to her, that way she could at least feel a little better.

[*]

"Yes, I understand. We're doing the best we can." He said, his usual serious voice barely managing to hide the strain he felt.

"We want results soon you understand." The voice said from the other end of the phone line, wherever that might be. This voice was calm and superior, completely in control. It was exactly the opposite of how he felt.

"I understand, but-"

"But nothing." The man's voice interrupted him, for the first time showing any amount of emotion. "Results soon. Whatever it takes." There was a click as the receiver on the other end was put into place, followed by a single continuous tone.

The Director placed his phone back down as well, letting out a sigh and leaning back in the comfortable leather chair suited for a man in his position. Not that the chair gave him much comfort today, he felt like he was being crushed, as though he were in a vice and someone was persistently winding the handle – building up the pressure.

Well, that was surprisingly close to the truth; someone was piling up the pressure, one of his superiors in the agency who was constantly demanding results. It was the same person who had given the order to send Jose out alone, regardless of the safety of Section Two's personnel. He wondered if perhaps it was someone in Section One who had pushed this particular superior into his decision; through threats or bribery even the toughest individual could eventually be bent to one's will.

The Director shook his head. These were dangerous thoughts. It was true that there was much corruption within the government and police and even truer that Section One's boss would surely like to see and end to the cybernetics programme, but to think too deeply about such possibilities only invited paranoia, something which would spell the end of his career. No, it was better to believe that these strange orders came from the top brass, even if they put him in such a difficult position. The way things played out from now on would decide the fate of Section Two, and he knew that every other section in the special ops division would be keeping a close eye on the situation, they couldn't afford any mistakes.

He straightened himself up in his chair, to improve his appearance. This was the moment that he had been dreading since receiving that telephone call, and he had been trying to put it off until later, but to do so would be a blemish on his record as a professional. He would have to act professional and appear professional if he wanted things to go well.

He leaned forwards slightly, to press the button on the squat, black intercom which sat on his desk, and spoke into it, "Send Jean in now."

Today was going to be a challenging one.

[*]

Henrietta walked slowly across the courtyard, the gentle wind blowing back her blazer and pushing her plain grey skirt against her legs as she walked. She was looking for Rico and, having already checked their room and even returned to the cafeteria to see if they had missed each other, she was now unsure about where she should go. She though briefly about checking Triela and Claes' room to see if the three of them were in there instead, or perhaps even the armoury, maybe Rico had been sent back there by Jean to return the ammo she hadn't used. After all, whilst it was normal for the assassins to be allowed to keep all of their weapons in their rooms, there were restrictions on exactly how much ammunition they could keep when they were not on mission, and all rounds taken from the armoury had to be logged carefully, something that was usually taken care of by their supervisors.

She stopped dead, standing in the middle of the grassy area of the courtyard. All around her were the covered paths around the inside of the dormitories, where the cyborgs were kept. The doors which had been placed intermittently along the building led to corridors and rooms, some of which were occupied, others were empty; awaiting new additions to the agency should there be any. The courtyard itself was quiet – it usually was. Few people had any business in this wing of the building and those that did would all be occupied at the moment - training, working, eating; even resting. The Agency liked to keep its agents and assassins well practiced through near constant training, the only real breaks they got from it in normal circumstances was when they were deployed on mission and training was impractical.

It suddenly occurred to her; if Jean had dismissed her from the morning training, did that mean that she shouldn't bother to attend the afternoon as well? It was a situation Henrietta had never been in before, Jose was always very clear on when and where their training would take place. It left her with no choice; she would have to ask Jean in person. No matter how much she didn't like the idea, it was better to ask him now than to risk being scolded again for failing to show up or the embarrassment of showing up when she didn't need to. But that left her with another problem, where was Jean?

"Henrietta!"

She jumped at the sound of her own name being called out across the courtyard, and span round to face the person who had called her. As though he had read her thoughts, Jean stood under the covered walkway that bisected the courtyard.

Keen to make up for earlier, she rushed over to where he stood, noticing as she did so that his face bore an expression that was absolutely serious, to a level that was unusual even for him.

"Yes sir." She said automatically as she reached him, standing straight even though she barely came to above his waist and had to raise her head to look Jean in the face. However, she noticed that he wasn't bothering to look down at her, instead he looked somewhere over her head, staring off into the distance.

He didn't respond to her at all, something which struck her as extremely odd considering that it was he who had called her. However, ignoring this, she decided to take the initiative.

"Jean." She began, changing her view to look down at his shoes. Any confidence that was in her before had gone. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning, it was my fault. I-"

"Forget about it." He said curtly, it was quite unlike him to let something slide like that. "I've got some bad news, and it's about Jose."

Her head snapped up so quickly that she felt her neck crack uncomfortably, but she ignored it. It was hard to pay attention to something so minor when the uneasy feeling that she had had all day suddenly took hold of her mind, washing over everything with a wave of dread. Her imagination went into overdrive, filling her head with unpleasant images of the worst things imaginable, despite the little voice in the corner of her mind that was trying to reassure her – unsuccessfully.

"What's happened?" She asked, trying – and completely failing - to keep the worry and panic from her voice. Her heart was racing faster than ever, so much so that she felt it might simply overdo itself and pack in. A strange look of distaste flashed across Jean's face.

"It seems that the Padanians discovered his hiding place." Jean said, "He was killed, we found his body an hour ago."


	4. Chapter 4

_It's been a very long time, I know that, for which I apologise. I know that I also left the last chapter on a bit of a cliffhanger (again, sorry) but here is a new one for you to read and a bit longer than the last one as well._

_Thanks very much for all the reviews, once again sorry about the cliffhangers. If you're unsure about how something fits into the plot then do not worry, rest assured that you are only confused because I want you to be slightly confused, but all will be made clear._

_I do hope people like this and I also hope that I get more than one new review (unlike the new chapters I added onto two of my other stories)._

* * *

Rico trotted down the steps, her shoes patting the thick stones as she went down two or three in one go. It was something she managed with ease - nothing compared to the Agency's assault courses or a rooftop chase against a target – and yet she enjoyed doing so. She enjoyed the brief sense of falling that rose in the pit of her stomach each time she went down another three steps; she enjoyed the firm jolt in her legs as she landed and the sense of springing from one to the other as she pushed off with her other foot; and she enjoyed the air that blew against her face pushing back the two long locks of her hair as she descended rapidly.

When she reached the last few steps she jumped from them, a wide smile breaking onto her face as she fell before slapping both feet upon the ground as she landed. There were sets of steps like that all around the agency going up and down the tall grass banks that surrounded some of the buildings. She had never questioned why they were there, but she liked them. They gave her and the other girls a place to relax that was outdoors and (when she was feeling energetic) she enjoyed running down them, even though no-one followed her.

Leaving the steps behind, she made her way along the path which ran around the outside of the dormitories. The quickest way in would be through the front entrance, but she preferred to go around the back to the courtyard - the adults often gave her unusual looks when she was wandering about by herself and, whilst she should be used to it by now, it still made her feel uncomfortable. So she headed around the back, allowing her arms to swing the two cases she now carried such that their weight pulled her forward slightly.

One of the instrument cases was her own, a long black rectangular one whose silver latches glinted as they caught the sun's rays and which contained her precious sniper rifle. A Dragunov SVD given to her by Jean not long after she had arrived at the agency, it was easily her favourite weapon and the one that she tried to use most often. The other case was Henrietta's violin case, containing the P-90 that Jean had confiscated from her. Rico knew that Henrietta's P-90 meant as much to her as her own SVD and that it must have crushed her to have it confiscated like that. Rico knew that she would feel the same in her position.

Henrietta was going through a tough time – and Rico knew it. Henrietta had always been the most emotionally delicate of them all and she was also the closest to her handler, something which Rico couldn't understand. Jean always kept his distance, and he didn't give her gifts unlike Jose and Hilscher did with their cyborgs… yet she didn't mind, she was happy right now. She liked Jean, that she knew, and she wanted him to think better of her, but she was happy in her place and that's why she couldn't bring herself to understand how Henrietta felt. She knew that Henrietta was feeling bad, but she didn't know why.

Did she want to know? Probably not. If such a thing was to cause so much sadness then it was better not to know. Henrietta was her friend, that was true, and as such Rico would forgive her for almost shooting her on the rifle range - it was after all an accident – but she would never understand how she felt, and it couldn't bring her sadness… because Jean had complimented her this morning, and nothing made her happier.

When she eventually rounded the last corner of the building she caught sight of Henrietta in the courtyard. Standing alone and facing away from Rico, her clothes blowing gently in the breeze, she was completely unaware of another presence.

"Henrietta!" She called as she approached, waving one of the cases up in the air.

No response. She called again, louder, but Henrietta didn't move even an inch. Rico felt her mood slip, her happiness dropping into the first genuine concern she had felt all day. Why was Henrietta ignoring her? Sometimes she had bad moods, but she would always speak to her – or acknowledge her at least. She could definitely hear her right now… something had to be wrong.

When she reached the girl she noticed that she was staring up into the sky as though there had been something of extreme interest up there…something which had now gone but Henrietta was striving to see it nonetheless.

"Henrietta…" Rico tried again now that she was closer, speaking softly. But she faltered at the next word, she couldn't think of a thing to say. "Err… I brought your case… and you gun." She eventually managed to get out, holding the violin case up before her.

Henrietta turned slowly to face her, noticing Rico's presence for the first time. Her face was almost white and her normally pleasant hazel eyes which almost matched the colour of her hair were wide and bloodshot.

"Is something wrong?" Rico said automatically, instantly realising just how inappropriate it was – of course there was something wrong. She had never before seen Henrietta like this, but she knew that it had to be serious.

Lost in thoughts of finding some comforting words and with both hands holding heavy cases Rico had no chance to react as Henrietta suddenly darted forward. She flung her arms around the blonde girl, the force of impact almost sending them both down to earth as Rico staggered backwards, and buried her head into Rico's shirt, bursting into a new wave of tears and crying out loud in large, gasping sobs.

Rico was completely taken aback by the suddenness of the physical contact, both of the instrument cases slipping from her grip and falling to the floor as the girl she shared a room with clung onto her. What should she do? Henrietta had cried before, but never like this, never full of such despair and desperation – how was she supposed to deal with this? Rico didn't know how to comfort someone; she had no experience at it. She wouldn't know where to start, didn't even know what had brought this on or how to ask Henrietta what the problem was. Triela was much better at this sort of thing than anyone else. All Rico could do was to stand and stare down at the girl, arms out wide and hope for someone – anyone - to come along soon.

[***]

_Dear Diary,_

_Jose… Jose… Jose is… Jose was… He was… I…_

[***]

"Really?"

"Yes. I just heard it from Hilscher." Triela responded, her voice low.

"I didn't think…" Rico faltered; her voice full of concern. Was it real though? "Poor Henrietta."

They talked about her as though she wasn't even there. Their voices were lowered, but they must know that she could still hear every word they were saying. Henrietta was, after all, only a few feet away, lying on her bed and staring into the wall. It felt better being on the top bunk, where she could isolate herself from the other three and be alone.

She didn't remember how she had come to be here. Only that she was here and that Triela, Rico and Claes were sat in the room talking about her behind her back, well within earshot. But it didn't matter to her as the only thing she could think about was Jose.

Jose. The news had hit her with more force than any weapon. She had always known that there was a chance he would die, but she had always assumed that she would die first, protecting him. It was what the cyborgs existed for. However, it had always seemed impossible that Jose could be killed and leave her behind, having done nothing to be able to help him.

She hated herself. She had broken her promise. Jose had died first and there was nothing she could do about it now. A burning sensation rose in her throat and her eyes began to sting and fill with tears. Henrietta shut them tight, what good would crying do now?

She felt so confused. She knew what pain was like, but she had never experienced anything like this before. When she was shot the pain went away almost instantly, but this was deep and constant, a burning inside her chest that wouldn't go away. It was as though her emotions were in chaos. She wanted to scream and shout, to break things and take out her frustration on everything around her, but at the same time she wanted to just bury her head and cry, absorbed in her own despair. The world seemed to empty now. She wanted to leave it… and disappear.

But she couldn't, because she knew that what she really wanted was to be with Jose. She wanted him to live again, she wanted to be able to see him, smell him and hear his voice. She wanted everything to go back to the way it had been, it didn't matter if he ignored her, she just wanted him back.

[*]

Claes sat in silence. She had said very little since Rico had dragged her along by the arm, claiming that something was wrong with Henrietta and demanding to know where Triela was. She hadn't been surprised to learn that Henrietta had been crying again, it happened so often, but they had all been shocked when Triela had walked in with a depressed look on her face and told them that Jose had been killed. Jose had always been kind to all of them, but the situation filled Claes with a strangely familiar sense of dread. It was almost as if she had seen it before, a long time ago, but couldn't quite pin down what or when it was. So she had sat in silence, ignoring the conversation between Rico and Triela as she tried to concentrate on this feeling that she was sure was important.

It was only when Jean entered the room that she paid attention once more. He stood there in his usual serious fashion, his face betraying not even a flicker of emotion, something which struck Claes as unusual for a man who had just lost his brother.

Jean glanced up at Henrietta, unmoving on her bed, who had lain that way for several hours now. His face hinting at an expression that was familiar to Claes – he was assessing her. It made her think, is this man so obsessed with his job that he will even assess and examine us once we've passed our usefulness?

"Rico." He said suddenly, in his usual voice that always barked commands. "Let's go, we've got training to do. You too, Triela."

Almost at once Rico got to her feet, picking up her long rifle case that lay under her bed. Triela was slower and more relaxed in her response as she too followed Jean out of the door. What a pleasure it must be, thought Claes, to have such a simple time as Rico and simply follow the orders that you've been given without having to worry about anything or anyone else. She did sometimes envy the others, who went out on missions while she stayed here, she didn't even get to train or own a weapon unlike the others. However, it did give her plenty of time to read and pursue her hobbies.

Speaking of which, she thought she might go and tend to her small herb garden now, the one which Jean had allowed her to plant in the grounds. She didn't really know why she wanted to grow things, she just did, and she enjoyed the time she spent doing so.

"Hey, Claes?" Said Henrietta, barely audible, just as Claes was standing up.

"Yes?" She responded politely, hiding the mild irritation she felt.

"What happens when people die?"

"How am I supposed to know?" She said angrily, her glasses slipping forward slightly. She pushed them back on a little too roughly and had to take a moment to adjust them to a more comfortable position. Henrietta might look up to her and Triela, but her naïve nature was often more than annoying.

"You read lots of books," Henrietta was suddenly defensive and Claes knew that her outburst had hurt her. "I was just wondering."

She sighed, Henrietta was sometimes more trouble than she was worth, but she didn't want to make it worse. "Different people believe in different things." She said, after a moment. "Some religions believe in an afterlife, a place a person's soul goes when they die."

"A good place?"

"For good people, yes."

"I see."

Henrietta said no more after that, and the silence was strangely unnerving. During their whole conversation she had not once turned away from the wall, but the subject had sent a strangely familiar thought through Claes' head, one that she couldn't quite grasp.

It was only after she left, halfway down the corridor that the thought revealed itself to her. A memory, something that Henrietta had said to her once. "_I'd die if I didn't have Jose._" She paused, and turned to look back down the corridor, turning it over in her mind.

After a moment she shook her head and continued on her way. Henrietta couldn't have meant in like that.


End file.
